I don’t like excuses. I never have. It’s not to say that sometimes there isn’t a really valid reason why you did/didn’t do something. I think the reason I don’t like them is that I know (deep down) there really is no excuse for my not doing the things I should do. (Example: yes, my kitchen is small but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to let the dishes pile up in the tiny sink.) Excuses are the first thing to flood my mind when a challenge is presented. (Example: my dear friend wants to run a half-marathon in five months. My first thought is ‘I can’t do it’.) I’m sure this has a lot to do with psychology and negativity and whatnot but that’s an idea I don’t really have the desire to explore cause I’ll just confuse you and I’ll confuse myself. I have a point with this blog entry and I want to stick to it – for your sake, friends.
The working title of this blog started in my head as ‘reasons why I don’t write’. Then I realized that it’s bigger than that; it’s about my relationship with excuses. To me, excuses are like a vapor: they float in and fog up my end-goal; they confuse and disorient me and I can’t grasp them. I’m a little too good at giving myself excuses and as a consequence, I sort of end up shaming myself. Crazy, right?! The way I deal with this shame is to close in on myself. I cut out everyone and everything, I go dark on social media (yes, even Instagram), I shuffle on through my life keeping my eyes down. I retreat – all because of excuses. That brings us to writing. I know a lot of bloggers (not that I’m calling myself a “blogger”) struggle with finding their voice, consistency in writing and building a readership. I know the only way to build my readership is to write consistently. I feel like, when I’m in this self-shamed-state, that I don’t want to write. I get so tired of myself and as a consequence I feel like you all will be tired of me too. I feel like nothing I’m writing will be of any real gain. Before this spirals into a web-based pity-party, I’m going to continue my original idea giving you reasons I don’t write. Without further adieu:
reasons I don’t write:
- My phone deleted all my pictures (long story – not my fault) so any picture blogging I had planned came to a halt. I say “my phone” but it was really a misunderstanding between my phone, a work PC and a camera. I’d never blame Apple for something like that.
- I still kind of hate it that I don’t completely understand WordPress. I’m going to have to resign myself to the fact that I’m simply not a person that can teach myself. I need someone to teach me. My ‘WordPress for Dummies’ remains uncracked.
- There’s cat litter on my desk which my cats use as a glorified perch. How is one expected to have a creative space when there are two cats running around like crazies, leaving a trail of litter everywhere (did I mention my apartment is small. Small space + two litterboxes = mayhem).
- I’m not really super happy about anything going on at the moment. Springtime is fantastic – don’t get me wrong. I love the city and I love my apartment… but I can’t muster up the modicum of happiness required to put into a blog entry.
- See aforementioned “excuse” of closing in on myself – I’m kind of floating around in there right now.
- I’m overly critical. Of everything.
- Once I stop being regular about writing, it’s easier to stay on track that way than it is to get a thoughtful post up.
It’s not that I don’t want to blog. Cause I do. In fact, I’ve even thought about maybe putting some effort toward writing a book of essays. Please just forgive me for this awkward time of in-betweenness. I’m going to get better, I promise. After all, if I want to be the next David Sedaris, I have to start somewhere.
P.S. I’m headed to Vegas in t-6 days. Something good will come out of that, surely! Right?!